


Plants

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'The reader has depression, and Till comforts her when she's having a difficult moment.'Aww. Till hugs cure it all.





	Plants

You sit at the table in the little kitchen, watching the shadows of the plants dance in the low evening light, and sigh, taking a sip of your hot chocolate. You’re not sure how you feel right now, and you know enough to know that means you’re depressed; you don’t have a reason, except ‘poor brain chemistry’, and you close your eyes, trying not to try. Focus. Focus on the sounds. A car down in the street, five stories below. The leaves on Till’s - numerous - houseplants… apartment-plants? Kitchen-plants?, because there certainly aren’t any in the other rooms, rustling in the breeze coming through the low, long window he smokes out of in the mornings when he’s making coffee. Somebody in the street, talking, excitedly. You hope they are happy, whoever they are.

Out in the hallway, you hear the door open, and you lean to see through the door; Till is hanging up his coat, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and you smile to yourself a little thinly. You can hear him muttering to himself, picking keywords like ‘ _Arschlock_ ’, and look over at the pan, which is still steaming.

“ _Hallo_ ,” you call, and he turns, a smile spreading across his face as he takes his scarf off and hangs it up. “ _Wie geht’s_?”

“ _Es geht._ ” He shrugs, and then makes his way in. “You have made hot chocolate?”

“Sure did, sweetheart. It’s in the pan.” You take another sip, watching the steam rise before your eyes as he pours himself a mug, before falling into the chair opposite you, sprawling his too-large-for-the-chair frame out. “You sound… stressed.”

“Yes.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and then shakes his head, smiling a little. “We are all stressed. Recording. It is naturally stressful.” He clears his throat, and takes a sip of the drink. “This is very good.”

“Thanks,” you say, quietly, and he tilts his head, watching you.

“What is wrong?” he asks, and you shrug, staring at the blue-painted table. He reaches out, and you lean against his hand, warm from the mug and rough from life, closing your eyes. “Dearest, I am here for you, what happened…?”

“Nothing happened,” you say, quietly, and he nods. He understands you; he always does. Nothing needs to have happened for him to understand that you need his care and attention sometimes. You feel a little guilty, after his rough day, that you are putting this on him, but then he smiles at you.

“I will cook, tonight.” You smile at him, and he takes your hand, kissing it gently. “You should go and relax.”

“But you had a rough day as well,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“You know that I like to cook.” His tone is amused now. “And I am better at it.” You push his arm, knowing full well this is true, and he grins at you. “Please. I am hungry. Are you ready for dinner?” You nod enthusiastically, and he leans over the table, kissing you gently. “Then go. I will call you when it is ready.”

You stand up as he does, and yelp as he scoops you up into his arms effortlessly, kissing your face all over; you giggle, and he smiles at you.

“Do not ever sit there upset again, okay?” he says, firmly. “You must call me.”

“Your phone is in the living room,” you say, a _little_ reproachfully, and he pauses.

“You must ring Schneider. Or Richard,” he says, and you grin. “ _Meine Geliebte._ ” He kisses you again, and then sets you down. “Now. Go.” He smacks your ass, and you yelp, running into the living room and grinning as you sit down. You are still sad, and a little empty, but you know you can rely on him.


End file.
